


Scenes from an Inquisition - Dungeon

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Complete, One Shot, Origin Story, Other, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Conclave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: Answers the burning questionhow did the future Inquisitor manage to blunder into that room at the Conclave at just the right time?This scene leads directly up to the opening scene of Dragon Age: Inquisition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Scenes From an Inquisition_ came about because I didn't want to write an adaption of a playthrough of DAI, but there are in-between scenes that happened off-camera / out of game that I wanted to explore.
> 
> Each scene is complete and, depending on the content, may stick close to or stray far from canon. They will also vary in rating and complexity of plot. They likely won't be in strict chronological order.They all supplement the rest of the series of works featuring Kai Trevelyan, but can all be read as stand-alones.
> 
> As always, feedback is welcomed!

### SCENE 1 - DUNGEON

**_19 Solace - 9:41 Dragon_**

I ached all over. That was the first thing I became aware of. I was still trying to puzzle out why that might be when other facets of my situation started to come into focus. I was lying on my left side on a floor. A stone floor.  And it was bloody cold. There was a small rock digging into my left cheek.

_What the fuck?_

It was difficult to think. My mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton batting, if that makes any sense. Thoughts were getting through, but slowly and out of order. Something had happened. More... _think, damn it_. Something _awful_ had happened. It involved spiders, I remembered that.

_Spiders?_

Spiders could be found at the edges of cold stone floors. The panic I felt at that thought—which in retrospect was out of proportion even though I do hate spiders—was enough to make me open my eyes, half expecting to see some multi-eyed arachnid visage staring back at me. All I saw was grotty stone floor and a grotty stone wall.

_What is this place?_

Cold. That’s what the place was. I didn’t think it was just me. How long had I been on this floor? Why? I was bloody uncomfortable, that much I was sure of. I rolled onto my back and groaned as all my muscles protested. That brought footsteps, but my eyes didn’t want to open again to see whose.

“Bastard’s awake. Want us to haul him out for you, Seeker?” A man’s voice.

A woman’s voice answered from far off, “Is he coherent?”

“Is he what?”

“Co _her_ ent. Is he speaking?”

“No, he just groaned, like.”

_I am in a place at least partly staffed by idiots._

“We need him awake and speaking, not groaning. Once he’s truly awake you can secure him and bring him out to us.”

“Aye, Seeker. We’ll make sure he can’t go nowhere.”

The footsteps came closer, stopped again. I heard the man hawk and spit. “Murdering bastard. ‘S what happens when you let mages loose, just like my mam said. Ask me, every last one of you should be put down.” I heard metal clattering loudly against metal as he shouted, _“Wake up.”_ The footsteps retreated.

I kept my eyes closed, tried very hard to think clearly. It wasn’t easy. Between the cold and the way my body was aching, just taking breaths was distracting. I was in some kind of serious trouble here. Somehow I needed to get my wits about me.

_Think. My name is Kai Trevelyan. For the last two years I lived in Ostwick after leaving the Circle there. I was at the Conclave that Divine Justinia arranged to stop the bloody mage/templar war…_

**_=#=_ **

**_15 Solace - 9:41 Dragon_**

I had been at the Conclave as a representative of the mages. I hadn’t even been particularly enthused about that; a good friend had suggested I give it a try. I’d approached the experience as something to do to get myself out of the rut I’d gotten into, maybe even see a bit of the world.  I’d never been outside the Free Marches and hadn’t even seen much of them, to be honest, so there was a lot of world I needed to see. I really hadn’t expected my presence at the Conclave to matter one way or the other, except that I’d be one more body there on the mages’ side of the room.

We’d taken a ship from Ostwick. Once the initial novelty of setting sail for distant lands wore off, it had been simultaneously interesting and dull, much like my companions.  I knew a few of them from back when I was in the Circle. One woman I got on with all right—she’d left not long after me and ended up living in Markham with her sister for the past few years. We spent a great deal of time comparing notes about life in the real world.

The other two had never been fond of me in the Circle. They thought I was getting special treatment from the First Enchanter and that infuriated them. It so happened that I and a handful of others _were_ getting special treatment, but he had his reasons and that’s neither here nor there. Even after two years they’d still held a grudge about it even though the last thing I wanted to do was go back to that or any Circle. I found that annoying and kind of pathetic. Fortunately there were plenty of other mages I’d never met before on the ship so I was able to avoid them, but they couldn’t seem to go near me without shooting me dirty looks and snide comments.

The other mages were a very mixed lot. A few were stalwart Circle enthusiasts who wanted nothing more than for things to go back to the way they used to be. I stayed away from them. Some were just as devoted members of the rebellion. They practically worshipped that mage who blew up the Kirkwall chantry and spent most of their time carrying on about how they hoped the Templars would start something so they could retaliate. I stayed away from them too, as I find fanatics of any stripe equally tiresome. In any event, the two factions spent most of their time sniping at each other. 

I was a bit disappointed there were no former apostates who’d managed to stay out of the Circles altogether among our group, but I could understand why they might mistrust not just us, but the supposed purpose of the Conclave.

The ones I got on best with were the ones who, like me, had left their Circles and wanted nothing more than to be allowed to have a life like anyone else in Thedas. They were more sensible and more fun than any of the stalwarts. We spent most of the days-long voyage playing games of chance and talking about anything _but_ the ongoing mage/templar conflict.

We landed at Jader and traveled overland, climbing steadily into the Frostback mountains. We had to go on foot because they weren’t about to provide horses for that many people; there must have been twenty in our group alone. They did provide outriders to help ensure we weren’t attacked on the way there. All in all, I think I would rather have had a horse.

I’d never seen mountains like those before. They were huge and rocky and snow-covered and serious about being mountains.  They made the Vimmarks in the Free Marches look like friendly foothills.  As the temperature dropped and many of us started using heat spells to supplement inadequate outerwear, I began to question my choice to make this my stab at revivifying my life. Perhaps a holiday in nice, _warm_ Antiva would have accomplished the same thing. How anyone could stand to live in mountain country full time was beyond me; no amount of pristine beauty was worth putting up with that sort of cold.

As we trudged up the road to the Temple of Sacred Ashes (ironically, said ashes had disappeared years ago), we occasionally ran across other groups, some of them mages, some Templars. The Templars seemed on the whole to have better winter wear, but we didn’t mingle to make comparisons. Too much hostility and bad baggage still. The outriders made sure everyone stayed separated and moving along. Then once we got to the Conclave, everyone would supposedly talk it out and have a bloody great group hug.

Whoever built the Temple had gone out of their way to make sure it dominated the landscape. It was huge and old, with a multitude of towers and pointy roofs, and sat glowering at the top of a steep hill that guaranteed you were going to wear yourself out just getting there. Some of our party were badly out of breath by the time we reached the main courtyard and were herded through a side door to one of the many wings of the fortress (because make no mistake, no matter what they called it, a fortress was what it was). We could see them doing similar with a newly-arrived group of Templars on the other side. It appeared they didn’t trust us all to behave.  

In a large anteroom we were given a little introductory speech about what we could expect and admonished not to start anything with the Templars. A heavy-set woman pointed at a large, open book and suggested we should all sign it “for posterity”, so people would forevermore be able to read it and see the names of those who attended this historic conclave.  I passed.

They told us we were among the last groups to arrive; some had already been at the Temple for a few days. _But,_ the spokes-Sister added, we were in luck! We’d made it in time to join the official opening and first meeting of the Conclave! This was the one everyone was expected to attend, as Justinia herself would officially conduct the opening ceremony.  Some of the more religiously inclined among us seemed to find that exciting.

We were shown to our rooms, which looked a little more institutional than many of us had hoped, with whitewashed walls and small, sturdy beds, each with a small, sturdy nightstand beside it. The only other adornments were a coat rack, a single washstand against one wall and a table with four chairs in the centre of the room. One of my roommates complained, _We’re supposed to be diplomats, aren’t we? They could have at least coughed up some carpeting and a cheese tray._

Personally I wasn’t thrilled we were expected to share the rooms (I was in one with two other mages), but I suppose between us, the Templars, the Chantry staff, real diplomats and assorted underlings, the place was quite crowded.

They gave us a little time to clean up and put on nicer clothes, but they wanted to get the Conclave off to what I’m sure they imagined as a rousing start, because we were all expected to be seated in the main hall in less than an hour, eager to hear maker knew how many speeches about how badly-behaved everyone had been and how it was high time to stop all the nonsense. Having determinedly avoided getting involved in any of the damned war, I wasn’t looking forward to all the speechifying that would simply reiterate what I already thought. 

“Do you think we’ll meet  Divine Justinia?” one of my roommates—a round-faced young man—asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t see why we would. We’re not important enough.”

“Think the Templars will start up with us?” said my other roommate, a sallow fellow of about forty.

“Maker, I hope not,” said roommate one. “There’s been enough violence.”

“You don’t feel like it might be fun to kick a little Templar ass?” roommate two said.

“No,” One said with a withering glare.

“What about you?” Two said to me.

“I’d rather find out if there’s a place to get a beer around here,” I answered. “I’ve no interest in the whole stupid war.”

“Then you picked a funny place to holiday,” Two joked.

I stowed my traveling bag under my bed, excepting a few truly valuable items that I kept in my pockets, and warded it shut. I tossed my staff on the bed, as I didn’t anticipate needing it for anything.

I had every intention of getting to the opening ceremony on time, but as I walked into the hallway I realized if I didn’t use the facilities first, I was going to be sitting on an increasingly desperate need to piss for what could be an excruciatingly long time.

I changed direction, only to be blocked by a very short, very angry older woman in elaborate mage robes. Her staff was taller than she was. "You, boy—don’t you know the opening ceremonies are beginning? Where are your robes?" she demanded.

“I don’t wear robes,” I said shortly.

"So you want to look like a common ruffian or fit in with the Templars? This isn’t an after-dinner singalong in your Circle, you know."

“I’m not part of any Circle, I’m here as an independent proxy for my former First Enchanter,” I replied even though it was none of her bloody business. I didn’t add that the Ostwick Circle hadn’t once had an after-dinner singalong in the entire eighteen years I’d been locked in the blasted place.

"So you have no respect for our traditions or the Divine Justinia," she snapped.

"Not particularly, no," I said.

"Maker’s breath, you shouldn’t be allowed into the Conclave with that attitude."

I shrugged. “You’re entitled to her opinion, but I’m not about to start wearing robes for you or Justinia or anyone else. There’s nothing in the rule book about mages having to wear robes and I personally despise them.”

She snorted. “No wonder this world seems to be going to the void. You’ll probably take this as a compliment, but I’m telling you now—all that black you’re wearing makes you look like a sodding _Vint_.” 

I pointed out to her that not only was she being rude, but continuing the conversation was going to make us both late. She appeared to debate which would give her more pleasure, the ceremonies or continuing to berate me, but the ceremonies won and she sailed away on a cloud of disapproval.

Some of my fellow mages are not the most delightful creatures.

As I entered the facilities I heard bells tolling, signalling the opening of the Conclave.  I was late. I finished as quickly as possible and headed back the way I’d come. The halls were echoingly empty and it seemed my boots were loud enough to send tremors ahead of me.

So of course I got lost.

I don’t know exactly where I turned wrong, but it eventually dawned on me that the hall I was walking down was getting quieter and dustier by the minute. I’d had to backtrack all the way to my quarters (and I very nearly passed right by those) then set out again in the right direction.

I finally reached what I hoped was a side door to the main hall and steeled myself for the inevitable stares that my late arrival was going to attract. I opened it and realized rather than the big, main auditorium, I’d stumbled into its anteroom. Under normal circumstances it was where Justinia would be preparing along with a few members of her retinue. Instead, I saw some big, ugly bastard with a _lot_ of magic at his disposal courtesy of the glowing ball he was holding. He had the Divine suspended in mid-air and was hollering about sacrificing her.

I said something stupid like, “What’s going on here?” 

The ball hit the ground (dropped? thrown?) and rolled right at me. I intercepted it without thinking, grabbing it with my dominant left hand. The thing seemed to latch onto me and all hell broke loose. I couldn’t remember exactly what happened except I felt that ball doing something to my left hand, then something big exploded. The shockwave hit me like a load of bricks, then nothing.

I came to in a place that was definitely not the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Everything was green and felt like the bloody Fade and I _felt_ like I’d been body-slammed by a load of bricks and something was very _very_ wrong with my hand and then… things got increasingly scary and weird.

I heard the sound first. They’d demonstrated it to us in a course on dangerous wildlife we might encounter if we were sent out into the world to defend the Free Marches from invaders and I’d never forgotten it.

It was a sound I _really_ hated: The clicking, scratching noise of multiple legs skittering over rocks. It was the sound spiders made when they were big enough to be audible.

It was getting louder far too quickly. I got to my feet, having concluded it was vitally important to head in the opposite direction before I got to meet the locals. Though my legs weren’t happy about it, I forced them into a run.

I tried to remember more, but it was just coming in flashes.

 _Flash:_ Someone urging me to run to them. 

_Flash:_ Looking behind me and they were _huge_ fucking spiders and I really needed no further urging to run faster.

 _Flash:_ Climbing the kind of nightmare vertical rock face you only see in dreams… or the Fade. Shocking, impossible thought that felt correct—I was somehow physically _in_ the Fade.

 _Flash:_ Muscles screaming as I put my all into outpacing the spiders. 

_Flash:_ A woman helping me to a brightly lit exit and then… nothing again.

_This is not what I had in mind to get out of the rut I’d been in._

**_=#=_ **

**_19 Solace - 9:41 Dragon_ **

I was still puzzling over those last images I remembered when I heard keys rattling in a lock, metal hinges squeaking, a heavy door slamming open. It seemed I was in a jail of some sort. A boot drove into my right side, a nudge that was just a hair away from being a kick. “I know you’re awake, you bald bastard. Open your eyes.” He nailed me with his boot again, hard enough that it hurt.

I opened my eyes a crack, waited for them to focus on the unlovely vision that was my jailor. He was one of those big men with layers of muscle covered by slabs of fat. His hair was mousy brown and thinning. He had the dull, ill-tempered look of a professional low-level thug. Clearly I would need to use words of no more than two syllables with him. “If you do that again, I will fucking kill you.” It came out raspy, but perfectly clear.

He sneered. “If you kill me they won’t bother to hear your story, they’ll just execute you straight away. You’ll mind your place, mage, till the Seeker’s done with you.”

I closed my eyes again and got the boot again. “No you don’t. If yer awake enough to mouth me off, yer awake enough for her. Them. Sit up if you don’t want me to help you.”

I sat up. It hurt to do so, but I hadn’t felt much better lying there.

“Good. Stay there,” he said. Like I’d been planning to take my morning constitutional in a few moments. 

I could have used a glass of water, but I didn’t feel like asking big, dumb and ugly. Even if he got me one, he’d probably spit in it or worse. He exited, slamming the door shut on what was definitely my jail cell. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to conserve whatever warmth I could. Normally I’d just cast a small heat spell, but I was muzzy enough even casting something like that would be a challenge. Not to mention, I had no idea what they’d do to me if I started spellcasting.

He came clumping back carrying a board. No matter what he planned on doing with it, I couldn’t see that being a good thing. He leaned it up against the bars separating my cell from the outside chamber and I very nearly said, _You’ve got to be kidding._ The board had heavy metal shackles attached to it. I mean _heavy._ As in _things to secure your ogre with_ heavy. I could see already these people believed in overkill.  It didn’t take a genius to see what came next.

I watched disbelievingly as he none-too-gently secured my wrists. “What am I supposed to have done?” I asked.

“Shut up.”

If they thought that was going to keep me from spellcasting, they were _all_ idiots. Unless… had he said something about a Seeker? No matter; I felt too awful to make any real escape attempt.

He yanked me to my feet and marched me out of the cell, barely letting me catch my balance. Fortunately I wasn’t expected to walk far; just to the centre of the chamber. He pushed me down to my knees and said, “Wait there.”

I couldn’t be bothered to say something sarcastic back even though I certainly thought it. I looked down at the ludicrously oversized manacles, turning my left hand to see if there might be room to slip out of them. Without warning, my hand spit green fire at me. I recoiled, both from the shock and the brightness of the light, and had time to think _what the FUCK_ before the door swung open and a pile of armed men (well, okay, three or four) clattered into the room, flanking an imposing-looking dark-haired woman with a scar down one cheek.

Another woman, wearing a cowl over her red hair, appeared out of the shadows to join the first. Scarface was looking at me with contempt. Red looked like she wanted to rip my head off. And I had no fucking idea why.

Something told me if they didn’t kill me in the next few minutes, this was going to be a very long day.


End file.
